Gemotions

The dog whined at the door, sensing Leo’s mood. He ignored the pup's gentle nudges with its wet nose, barely registering its presence. He flicked on the television, aimlessly flipping channels, each program a vibrant display of the world moving on without him.

He’d spent months, poured his heart and soul into the novel. He’d envisioned the book, its cover, the book tour. He'd imagined the accolades. He took a long, sharp breath. Now, the manuscript was a weight, a leaden anchor dragging him down.

The rejection letter sat on the coffee table, a white rectangle of doom. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, the cold metal offering no comfort.